Diamonds in the Rough
by Artemis Faery
Summary: Do you want to hear a story? A story of mad wizards, barren dragons, ancient prophecies, and half blood misfits? You do? Good. My name is Thróra Rivers (daughter of Thorin Oakenshield) and me and my (supposed to be) arch nemesis, Evin Kinter (Also known as Baalakdush, son of Azog), are the only people who can save Middle Earth... says a prophecy. AU, set 20 years after "The Hobbit"
1. Chapter 1

**Let me just warn you, this story is not like any other fanfic you will have ever read under Hobbit genre. There will be two main OC characters, who go on a very unique adventure. There will be many OC's who pop up in the story later on. Be patient and this story will pay off.**

**Also,the name T-H-O-R-A has been used before, but not the name T-H-R-Ó-R-A Yes, I know they seem similar, but I was very careful not to use that name, it is quite cliché and has been used before, just wanted to clear that up.**

**FLAMES ARE ****NOT ****TOLORATED**

* * *

**Diamonds in the Rough**

_Authors Note,_

_I remember when I was young, so naïve, not truly understanding my responsibilities in the world. I would have probably lived a normal life if it hadn't been for my mother's indecisive nature. _

_Let me introduce myself, my name is Thróra, I used to carry the surname 'Rivers' but dropped that when I found out who I really was. Let me warn you, my life story is not for the faint of heart. It is quite a jumble of old memories now, and I shall try my very hardest to recall them clearly. _

_Some parts of this story will be filled by the accounts of my closest companions and others who I have seen their thoughts and perspectives on this story. But most will be told from my memory. I am old, and this story must be told to the next generation. You will not find this tale in any of Middle Earth's history books, for it has not been recorded on paper. So read it well. In addition to that, be careful to whom you tell this tale, we don't want it to be heard by the wrong ears._

_Yours Truly, (and the author of this story)_

_Thróra Swiftheart _

_(And Evin too)_

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Thróra **

My name is Thróra Rivers, and I had just gotten caught picking a pocket. I had no clue why I was so careless. But now I was being chased through the streets of a small town by a large angry man. Well, he could be large. I have a hard time judging sizes because of my short stature. I only stand 5'1½… 5'1¾ on a good day…

Anyways, I was being chased by an angry (possibly) large man. I had a sinking feeling when I realized that I still had his coin pouch clutched in my hand. I sighed and tossed the small bag over my shoulder. It hit him in the face, only making him even angrier.

_Curses. _

All manner of thoughts were going through my head as I ran through the small dusty alleys of this small village. I came unexpectedly to an open door of a house facing the alley. I turned and dashed through the small house and through the open front door to the other side of the road.

This move confused my angry follower. I used his moment of confusion to hide in an open barrel. The old wood smelled strongly of alcohol and mold, it wasn't the most comfortable fit for me either. I peeked out of a cork hole. The man was looking around like a fool. His face was red with anger and probably all the activity he had just finished. He had a lazy stature; he had obviously laid around a tavern one too many times.

I smirked as he yelled quite a few curses. But my smirk disappeared when I caught two words in the stream of foul-mouthed words that stuck out to me like a sore thumb, 'short whore'.

Those two things really offended me.

First off, I hate being called short. Secondly, my mother's side of the family had a lot of prostitute blood, and it was the one thing she had actually tried for me to evade as a profession.

So naturally I had to go and teach him a lesson. I completely ignored the intelligent side of my brain telling me to stop as I climbed out of the barrel.

"Hey! Lazy piece of lard! Who you calling a whore? You should take a look at your sister!" I insulted.

He turned towards me; it took a second for the words to process through his (small) brain. But oh man, when they did I swear he turned into a raging bull. The big man charged me with a roar; I did the only thing I could think of.  
I dodged him.

He ran past me and tripped and fell into a nearby vegetable stall. I would have laughed if he had not thrown an apple, which gave a satisfying 'THWACK' when it collided with my forehead.

_"That's gonna leave a mark…" _I mused as a stumbled around, trying to clear my head of the stars I was seeing.

When my head cleared I saw him come running towards me, his fist in the air about to pummel me. I sprinted towards a nearby saloon where some old men were playing a board game and drinking cheep boos. I ran up the three rickety old stars that lead into the saloon.

My hand was on the handle of the door when the back of my tunic was grabbed and I was picked up off my feet. I suddenly was face to face with a very smelly, sweaty, angry man.

"You, you said my sister was a whore."

"Uh yeah, and you said I was short whore." I said as I socked him on the jaw.

I heard two cracks, one from his face and the other from the bones in my hand. Both me and him grunted in pain. He retaliated with a wild swing which I dodged with ease.

I started to get too cocky, because it wasn't long before he had punched me in the face as well. Blood was pouring from my nose as I tried to think of my possible means of escape. I decided it was time to play dirty.

"You hit like a girl!" I taunted.

He rushed forward, but I was ready for him. I aimed a kick at his groin, which had the desired effect of him letting out a most unmanly shriek and falling to his knees. I then finished the job when I grabbed a bottle of boos of a nearby table, took a swig, then smashed it over his head.

The big man fall face first into the grimy porch bored of the saloon. I plucked the coin pouch back off his belt, pulled out two coins and flipped them onto the table on which I had stolen the boos and continued on my way.

-T-

I soon came into view of a very colorful gypsy caravan.

My home.

I tried to avoid everyone because of the blood on my face. Gypsies _loved _to gossip. Let me make myself clear, we called ourselves 'gypsies' even though we were really just a rag tag bunch of sell swords, frauds, pickpockets, prostitutes, and circus actors.

I made my way to the wagon which I called home; it was a normal sized wagon with two rooms and a storage loft room. But we had reversed that order, so the second room was the storage room and the loft was my room. I slipped quietly in through the back door and climbed the small latter up into my loft room.

It wasn't much but it was home. I had a cot in the corner, a trunk, and a very low table that was bolted to the floor. I sighed and went to the trunk where I kept my belongings. I knelt and pulled out a fresh dark grey tunic, I quickly slipped my bloodied one over my head. I winced in pain when a sharp stab went through my fingers. I looked down at my bruised knuckles, there was probably a broken bone or two. I quickly started to tend my wounds and clean my face.

I looked into the small old mirror the hung above my trunk. I took in my strong chiseled features, icy blue eyes and thick curly black hair. I sighed. No one knew who I looked like. I certainly didn't look like my gorgeous, green eyes, red haired mother. Apparently my mother came back to the caravan after years of absence, me in her womb.

I longed to know who my father was, or where I truly came from.  
Little did I know that that wish would come true sooner than I thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Thróra**

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Thunder awoke me the next morning. I sat up and listened to the sound of the heavy downpour outside. I groaned and flopped back down on my cot. Today we were supposed to be packing up the caravan and moving on to another town, and now we would be in the rain.

I lay there, for a few moments planning out my next actions. I hadn't left our wagon since yesterday's action with the angry (possibly) large man. So my mother hadn't seen my face (which had developed some nice bruises). I wanted to try and avoid her as much as possible for the next few days. I realized then that it wouldn't be too hard; she rarely cared where I was anyway.

She had gone slightly crazy after my accident when I was seven. If you're wondering what my accident was, I got struck by lightning when I was climbing a tree to retrieve my friend's metal framed kite. It was an apple tree; I had never eaten an apple since. Long story short, I actually died for a little while, yeah I know, hard to believe but it's true. This caused my mother to kind of go crazy.

Now she mostly just 'reads people's fortunes' in the front room of our caravan. She made money, but it disappeared rather quickly, to where I have no idea. But she was always distant and murmuring to herself. Sometimes I would try and listen to what she was saying, but I never understood any of it. She always talked about trolls, barrels, gold, and dragons. I had no idea what she was blathering about, but there was one word I would hear every once in a while, _'Erebor' _I had never heard of it before but it sounded like a place.

I dramatically slid out of my bed and opened my trunk to look for some clothes. I sighed when I realized that I had no fresh trousers. My other pairs were unhealthily dirty. That meant I had to wear a skirt. I have nothing against skirts; it's just that they got in the way.

Luckily, one of my aunts had made me a special skirt. It was like all the other woman's skirts except it had a bunch of pockets in the many layers of cloth. Gypsies liked to be extravagant, so they had many layers of thin cloth tapered at different lengths, giving the skirt a flowing graceful feel. My skirt was also shorter than normal; it came to right below my knees instead of ankle length.

I pulled the indigo skirt out of my trunk, my eyes then wandered to the weapon it had previously hidden, a beautiful small sword with intricate silver designs. It was one of the things my mother had brought back with her to the caravan. No one was quite sure how she came upon such a valuable treasure.

She had insisted that I learn how to use a sword from a young age. I still remember the day she gave me that sword, I was only five. My uncle Fergus, who was a mercenary, taught me how to wield it. It had surprisingly come very naturally to me. Although had excelled at swordsmanship, I deeply disliked it. That's why my sword was buried at the bottom of my trunk, where I wouldn't have to look at it.

I haphazardly ran a comb through my thick, curly, black locks. I sighed when I looked in the small mirror; some more small bruises had developed on my face last night. I now had a bruised bottom lip, a bruise on my cheek bone, _and_ a big knot on my forehead where the apple had hit me (of course it was an apple).

So much for hiding my injuries.

I opened the small trap door in the floor and climbed down the latter into our storage room. I looked around for something to eat; I saw we had a nice fresh basket of peaches. I grabbed one then began to walk out the door until my name was called softly from the other room. I glared at the ceiling; of course I was in the middle of a big bite of peach. I walked into the front room of our wagon where my mother sat at her fortune reading table. The smell of incense burned my nostrils as I took in the gaudy appearance of my mother.

She was a very beautiful woman; she had long red hair and green eyes which looked like emeralds. My mother was the only girl in her family who had not become a prostitute in three or four generations. All eight of my aunts and uncles had different fathers… yeah, gross huh? My uncles, Fergus and Bo, were the only two boys in the family, they were my favorites. The only aunt who hadn't tried to sell me was Auntie Kat; she was the oldest of the six girls.

Madame Zadora, my grandmother, was well, crazy. She still tried to 'work' even though she was fifty years old. When I turned thirteen my grandmother made me look like a doll then tried to get me a client, but my mother found out and put a stop to it. Let's just say my mother had never been angrier. She slapped my grandmother across the face and called her quite a few unloving things. My uncles and Auntie Kat had stood by my mother's view.

My mother told me if they ever tried to sell me again, to cut their throats, she said this as she handed me a dagger. I still had that dagger; I kept it tucked away in the fold of my skirt. I had not spoken to my grandmother since. Of course, that was one of the last times my mother showed any sort of sanity.

"Thróra – what happened to your face?!" My mother exclaimed.

Well, looked like she was having a sane day.

"I got in a fight." I mumbled.

"With who?"

"Some rude smelly guy in town."

"Thróra! Oh what am I going to do with you?" She sighed.

"You haven't done much of anything with me." I murmured.

Her eyes filled with sadness.

"Only if you knew…" She whispered.

"Know what? Valar mother! You never tell me anything!" I yelled.

"It isn't the time." Her eyes going out of focus.

Aaaand now she's insane again.

"I don't even know if her other half is still alive." She said to herself.

My other half? Good gosh, now what was she talking about.

"I'm leaving." I snapped as I walked over to the front door.

-T-

The first thing my bare feet felt was mud, lots of squishy brown mud. I huffed and trudged through the mud. Old men sat under their wagon canopies, smoking who-knows-what and playing card games. Kids ran around in the mud splashing each other with the sticky substance. I smiled, I loved kids. A small boy ran up to me, his smile was missing two top teeth.

"Hey Thróra! Wanna go play?" The kid asked.

"Not today Rye, I have to go talk to uncle Fergus." I said, ruffling his hair playfully.

"Aww, man. Oh well, I'll see you around." He then scampered away to his other little friends.

I turned and went to a wagon which had a large amount of smoke coming out from below its canopy. That was the home of my uncle Fergus; he had taught me how to wield a sword. I walked with ease under the fairly low canopy. Snores greeted me, I rolled my eyes. He always fell asleep.

"Hello Fergus." I greeted.

The older man was sleeping in his chair, his patterned snores changed as he sat up suddenly.

"Wha- who goes there? Oh, 'lo Pip!" He smiled sleepily.

Pip was my unfortunate nickname. I was so small when I was younger I earned the nickname 'Pipsqueak', which was shortened to Pip.

"In the name of the Valar's holy underpants Thróra! What happened to yer face?! Looks like ya got chewed up and spit out by a dragon!" A smirk formed on his stubble covered lips.

"I got in a fight." I sighed, rubbing my thumb and first two fingers together.

The movement cause pained to shoot through my bruised fingers.

He started to roar in laughter.

"Ah, spitfire thing, ain't ye?" He wiped his eyes.

All the while I was standing there, with a deadpanned expression on my face.

"Lemme see your hands." He waved me over to him, finally recovering from his fit of laughter.

I walked hesitantly over to him, stretching out my hands. He took my hand gently and examined my bruised knuckles.

"Mmm, punched a jaw?" He mused knowledgably.

"Yeah."

He looked up at me, his brown eyes twinkling merrily.

"I think you need somethin' to protect your hands when you punch people in the jaw." He stood up and walked over to a cabinet that was settled up against his wagon, where he was going through the contents.

"Ah ha!" He exclaimed, pulling something out.

He came over and handed me some leather, fingerless gloves. After I examined them further I realized that the knuckles had steel implants which would absorb the shock and pack a mean punch.

I smirked,

"Thanks, Uncle."

"Ack, don't thank me!" He smiled.

I was putting my new gloves on when I realized he was watching me.

"What?" I asked.

"Your appearance is missing something…" He mused.

I raised an eyebrow, as he snapped his finger and ran inside his wagon. He came back thirty seconds later with, a top hat.

"A hat?" I gave him an incredulous look.

"Yes! A hat, it was mine when I was a lad. It has a secret compartment." He was almost giddy.

The hat was dark brown, looked like miniature version of a ring master's hat. Sure enough, in the roof of the hat was a small compartment which opened up.

Fergus gave me and encouraging look. I shrugged and put the hat on.

"Ah lass, you look like a real gypsy now!"

I smiled softly, I felt like it.

"Now get out and got get your oxen, we leave in thirty minutes." He said gruffly.

I shook my head and smirked; he had put up his gruff old man front.

The rain had let up, but it was overcast and the mud was up to my ankles. I was glad that I was bare foot, getting the mud out of shoes would be a headache.

I made my way over to the cow pen where the caravan kept their oxen. They were the only domestic animal able to pull the large wooden wagons. I started to run when I was a few yards away, vaulting over the short fence. The mud almost messed up my landing; normally I was flawless – being an acrobat in the family circus had made my acrobatics quite superior. My build was perfect for being a gymnast, short and strong, yet not heavy.

I sighed and gathered myself and picked out our two oxen from the mass of wet, smelly, cows. Their names were Twiddle and Dino; they were lazy but gentle beasts. I gagged when I stepped in manure. Soon I had the two big cows hooked up and trudging lazily behind me.

I was almost home when I heard a wolf whistle the sound of boys snickering.

"Woow, Thróra, it's been a while. You have, _grown._" I turned and glared at a trio of young men who were slouched against a nearby wagon.

It was the twins, Yanko and Manko, and their perverted leader, Baul. He was known for hitting on girls. Baul had a smirk on his face and was looking at my chest.

I shot him a nasty glare and continued walking.

"Whoa, whoa, where're you going?" He called after me.

"Away from your stinking breath." I said, not turning around.

I heard him growl.

"You aren't going anywhere!" I felt him grab my shoulder.

_'Time to try these new gloves out.' _I thought to myself.

I turned and grabbed his wrist, twisting it painfully. He cried out and sank to the muddy ground. The twins saw their comrade was in trouble and attacked me. I punched Yanko in the nose, hearing a crunch; I smirked, realizing that I hadn't felt anything through the glove. Marko watched his brother go down. He looked up at me, eyes wide. I gave him a smirk and tipped my hat in a smug manner, before punching his lights out.

Some instinct deep within me felt something coming from behind. I turned and swung a hard backhand which smacked Baul right across the face.

I smiled sweetly.

"Have a nice day, gentlemen." I moved back to my oxen, who hadn't moved.

I was smiling to myself; these gloves were going to come in handy.

-T-

Something was off when I got back to my wagon. I tied the oxen up to the wagon and cautiously went to the door. I pressed my ear to the door and listened.

"Fern, I have never trusted you, and I do not know what you have done." A deep grandfatherly voice said.

"That is none of your concern!" I heard my mother say with venom.

"Thorin was heartbroken when you left. But he overcame it, he is now married to a noble man's daughter, they have a son."

_Thorin… _that was my father's name, oh Vala, I now have a name for the man who was vacant from my life! I couldn't help the grin that spread across my features. But wait… he was married and had a son. My face paled, _he didn't know I existed._

"Why should I care?" I heard my mother say angrily, I heard the hint of pain in her voice.

"Because he loved you!" The man yelled. "I do not know why you left so suddenly, but there was something behind it. And I want to know what!"

Silence followed.

_"Well, time to intervene." _I shrugged.

I pushed open the door and froze in the doorway. In the small incense filled room was my mother, and a tall man in grey robes, a tall pointed hat, he carried a staff, and his long grey beard came down to his waist.

He turned to see who had come in, he froze, his eyes wide with shock. He looked from me to my mother.

"Fern, no, this cannot be. Do you know what you have done? This is his firstborn child!" He said angrily to my mother.

She just glared up at him.

He turned back to me, he feature softened and he gave me a small smile.

"What is your name, child?" He asked kindly.

"Thróra." I answered.

He closed his eyes, and let out a deep breath.

"Could you have given her a name that did not echo her ancestors'?" The old man asked my mother in a clipped tone.

"If she ever went back I didn't want her to be rejected!"

"She will be rejected no matter what!" The old man shook his head.

"Do you mind if I ask what is going on?" I said, my eyes wide.

"Gandalf don't, she does not know her heritage." My mother pleaded.

"You're the firstborn illegitimate child of a rather important person, who is married to one of his own race and has a son." Gandalf snapped.

"Well that's just fantastic." I said sarcastically, sending my mother a glare.

Gandalf chuckled softly.

"She certainly doesn't have his baring."

"Don't speak of him." My mother spat.

The old man sighed.

"I must leave now; you must not know your heritage." He said to me.

"But I need to know! I have been trying to figure out what I am my whole life!" I pleaded.

"You will know when the time is right." My mother said quietly

"Fern, do not speak a word. I will meet up with your caravan soon enough. But for now I must go." Gandalf came to the door in a flurry of grey robes.

I stepped aside for him to exit. The door shut behind him. My eyes snapped to my mother.

"Do not ask questions." She said, I knew that tone, I could pester her all I wanted, but I would never get any answers out of her.

I gave her a cold glare and stormed up to my loft where I flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Why was it so wrong for me to know my heritage? Not like I was royalty or anything! I laughed at the thought of me being a princess. That would never happen… right?


	3. Chapter 3

**I warn you, the plot begins to thicken in this chapter… like seriously, it gets intense quickly.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Thróra**

* * *

**_Six months later…_**

I sighed as the caravan moved lazily along in the early spring heat. It had been six months since we had seen that grey wizard. I had been patiently awaiting his arrival, hoping that he would reveal my heritage. But I had had no luck so far.

I sighed; Twiddle and Dino ambled along slowly, flicking flies away with their tails. Our caravan was making for the Gap of Rohan, where we would spread our 'talents' to the eastern part of Middle-Earth. Matter of fact, we were almost there. If I looked to our left the Misty Mountains loomed up and if I looked to my right was the realm of Gondor. I had never been that far east before; it was all so exciting for me.

There had been whispers of a band of orcs wearing the symbol of a crescent moon terrorizing those who passed through the Gap of Rohan. But our caravan ignored it, they figured that we had enough sell swords in our group to defend ourselves. I thought that they were being a bit stupid, merchant caravans were the most popular target for these 'moon orcs'. And our caravan wouldn't be any different.

Oddly enough these orcs hadn't been seen till a year or two before, popping up out of nowhere and attacking. I sighed and slapped the oxen with the reigns to keep them from falling asleep. The day was too beautiful for anything to bad happen.

I looked to the caravan beside me, it was my uncle Bo, he had a pipe in his mouth and was fast asleep.

"Hey, Bo, wake up!" I called over to him.

He snorted and woke up.

"You know you're driving a wagon full of spark dust." I told him, smirking.

Spark dust was an explosive powder that when applied with force left a poof of colored smoke. Gypsies used it for the circus show and their 'disappearing' acts. It probably wasn't the wisest thing for him to be smoking a pipe, spark dust was a nasty thing when applied with fire. It could blow up an entire wagon with just a hand full; god knows what a whole wagon full could do.

"Aye, you're right lass, I just wish this whole trip could be ove—"

I heard a bow twang and a big black arrow embedded itself into my uncle's chest. I screamed in horror as my uncle fell out of the wagon, dead as a door frame. Many other screams echoed out through the caravan as more black arrows shot in. Eerie howls of some sort of wolf echoed through the air.

We had been ambushed.

I felt my heart wrench in fear as I saw the first warg of my life. It was a nasty brutal creature, and it was standing in front of our wagon, saliva dripping from its jowls. Before I could do anything it lunged and killed one of my oxen. I felt rage bubbled up inside me. That dog had just killed Dino. He was going to die.

I pulled out my dagger, realizing that it would probably not kill the warg. Its eyes landed on me, it snarled, the cow's blood covering its muzzle. It jumped and I held out my dagger awaiting the oncoming force. But it never came. I opened my tightly clenched eyes and saw my mother, wielding my sword, kill the warg with the skill of a seasoned warrior.

"M-mom?" I stammered.

"Thróra, you need to get out of here!" She yelled, her eyes wide with panic.

"No kidding!" I said, eyes wide in fear.

"Thróra, listen to me, everything I ever did was to save you from him, he will try to find you and use you. You must go to Dale, seek out a dwarf named Bofur. Last I heard he had a toy stall in the market place." She said quickly, handing me the sword.

"I love you, I always have, please, don't let Mallus win." She said, stroking my hair lovingly.

"Mom, what is going on? Who is Mallus?" I asked, panicked.

"There is no time darling, you will know one day. Whatever you do, don't succumb to Mallu –"She was cut off by an arrow in her back.

"MOM!" I screamed, catching her limp body.

"No, no, no!" I sobbed, holding her thick red hair giving off the familiar smell of incense.

It was impossible; this was a dream, a nightmare. My mother could not be dead. I felt hot tears of sorrow and anger stream down my cheeks, anger at those foul beasts for taking my mother away from me. Even though she hadn't always been there for me, she was still my mother… And I loved her.

I lay her head down softly on the ground. She looked beautiful, as if she was sleeping. But I knew she wasn't. She was dead. I took the ornate sword and strapped it onto my waist, feeling the cold fury course through my veins. I would kill these creatures even if it cost me my life.

The sliver sword shown in the sunlight, the beautiful weather was almost mocking me in my pain. I gripped the hilt tightly, letting the teachings of my past come to my limbs. I looked up and saw the carnage around me, bodies, livestock, and remains of wagons were strewn all around. My anger increased.

The survivors, who were lead by my Uncle Fergus, were running away. The wargs were toying with them, picking off a straggler here and there. I ran towards them, sword drawn. One warg and its rider saw me and bounded towards me. The orc was vile and twisted, but a clean white crescent moon was strapped on its breast.

In my anger I thrust the sword into the wargs head, killing it instantly. The rider jumped down and charged me. It wasn't expecting me to know what I was doing. I sliced its throat, black blood poured out.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the group of survivors getting further and further away. Then my relief turned to fear when I realized the wargs had a new target… Me.

I looked around frantically for any means of saving myself. Then I saw it, standing like a beacon of hope. Still upright and in one piece, the spark dust wagon. I bolted towards it, throwing the doors open and finding the nearest small barrel of dust I could find. I grabbed it and chucked it away, it smashed open and a large cloud of purple smoke burst forth into the air.

I knew this wouldn't hold them for long, but I had an idea forming in my head, a suicidal one, but an idea all the same. I looked for a medium sized barrel of the explosive dust and moved it outside of the wagon. Then I quickly grabbed a rope that was hanging inside of the wagon. This rope would be different than other ropes; it had been near the dust for a long time, making it highly flammable. I ripped of the top of the barrel and stuffed the rope inside, hoping this crazy idea would work.

The smoke was starting to clear and the growls of many wargs were audible in my ears. I quickened my pace. Now I just needed a match. I looked around desperately, hoping that I would find what I was looking for, my eyes landed on the body of my uncle Bo. Of course, he smoked a pipe; and he had a large stash of matches in his coat pocket.

I pulled the rope along behind me as I dashed the few yards to where my uncle's corpse lay. I madly rummaged through his pockets until I found his match box. I held it up in victory, grinning at my find. But my grin was smacked from my face when the smoke cleared.

There, in front of me, was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. A pale orc, astride a white warg, he had a black crescent moon across his breast, contrasting against his white skin and a hook replaced his left arm. He was smiling too. That in itself gave me nightmares for the rest of my life. It was a look of utter victory; he seemingly knew he had won.

His pale eyes traveled to the ornate silver scabbard at my waist. His smirk contorted to look even more evil (as if it could get any more). He uttered something mockingly in his own language, but there was one word I understood, _Erebor. _

Then I remembered the match in my hand. I fumbled and took one out, my fingers were trembling, I struck it and the little fire blazed to life. The air around me sparkled and cracked from the remaining dust in the air. I smirked. This wasn't over yet.

I threw the match down on the flammable rope; it started to hiss and burn down towards the barrel of spark dust. I tipped my hat to the white orc then ran for my life. I got to the trees before it exploded. The fire flew out in a wide radius I felt searing pain in my arms when I covered my face from the flame; and the force of the blast knocked me off my feet and sent my body into a tree. Then the world flickered and I knew no more.

**-Azog POV-**

Once again he sent me to the Gap. He asked me to find his daughter, but I was looking for another woman. One I had discovered twenty years before. One who had escaped me, who had robbed me of something that was rightfully mine.

It had become a game for my warriors, destroying these caravans. The humans were so pathetic it was like squashing bugs beneath our feet. But that time it had felt different, the gypsies within held more fight than usual. Everything seemed to be somewhat normal until something drew my attention. It was a cloud of purple smoke. That was not normal.

I investigated the matter, the orcs lost in the smoke were muttering about a gypsy witch. I internally sighed; this human was going to be trouble. The smoke began to clear away. And there, rummaging in the pockets of a dead man, was a girl. She was small, had curly black hair underneath a ridiculous hat. I couldn't hold back a smirk; this was going to be easy.

The girl had seemingly found what she was looking for, she lifted up a small box in victory, but then she saw me and her eyes widened in fear. Her eyes. They were all too familiar; they were the steely blue of an enemy who had rendered my one arm crippled. _Could it be?_

I looked at her more closely, her height was short enough to be a dwarf, and her features resembled that of Oakenshield's. But it was the ornately made dwarven sword encrusted with the symbol of Durin that gave it away. This was the daughter of Thorin Oakenshield.

I smirked evilly and said in Black Speech.

**"Young princess, what are you doing so far away from Erebor?"** I said it with a mocking tone.

After I had finished those words she fumbled with the box in her hands and pulled something small out of it. She struck it against the side of the box and a flame sprang forth. Around her the tendrils of smoke that lingered sparkled and cracked, swirling around her. She threw down the spark and it hit a rope, making it start to hiss and burn and go towards a barrel not far away. She tipped her hat in a most mocking way then sprinted as if her life counted on it. Then I realized it did.

The barrel was going to explode and blow everything sky high. I turned my warg and spurred it on with all the speed I could muster, a few of my warriors followed. I saw the girl fly into the trees, I would get her later. But then an earth wracking explosion rendered the world dark and as a searing pain flared across my back.

**-Thróra POV-**

The first thing I felt was the burning pain in my arms, then the aches everywhere in my body, and then the fact that I was being jostled around in a cart. I sat up and moaned in agony, my arms felt as if they were being branded with a hot sheet of metal. I looked down and saw that they were bandaged with care.

I stood up slowly and looked around, saw a window of light on my left, I looked and realized it was an actually window, looking out. I peered through the hole and saw the old grey wizard, Gandalf, sitting on the front of the cart.

"Ah, my dear girl, I am glad you have awoken!" He said smiling.

"How long was I out?" I asked, my voice rough from being out of use. Then I suddenly was feeling very hungry and thirsty. I sat up and rubbed my head.

"A little over a week I believe." He replied.

My eyes widened.

"What happened after the explosion?"

He gave me a curious look.

"Was that your doing?" he asked.

"Ah, yes." I answered sheepishly.

"It is good to know you can think on your feet." Gandalf muttered.

"What is going on?" I asked in exasperation.

"Well, that was a routine raid, but I believe you are now at the top of Azog's kill list."

"Azog?"

"The pale orc who you attempted to blow up." The wizard explained.

"Wait, what do you mean 'attempted'? that blast should have killed him outright!"

"Ah, but you see, Azog is not like most orcs, he is much more intelligent."

"So he escaped." I deflated.

"Yes, and you're now on his most wanted to kill list, along with your father."

My head snapped up.

"My father?"

"Yes, your father was the one who cut off his arm." Gandalf told me.

"How? When? Where? Why?" I asked, pushing for information.

"Settle down child, you will know all when the time is right." Gandalf said patiently.

"Can I at least know his whole name?" I pleaded.

Gandalf smiled,

"Your father's name is Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain."

Wait… _what?_ My father was a king?!

* * *

**This is going to be the kind of story where you must be patient and all things will be answered in the future. So be patient, this story will be very deep and complex, as I said in the first chapter, not for the faint of heart. But I think you all will come to love the characters just as much as I have ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I want to be clear, this chapter is VERY DARK. There is none graphic mentions of rape and insane cabin fever. I am introducing my all time favorite male OC in this chapter but the POV that is throughout the chapter is his mother.**

**Beware, this is a dark chapter.**

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**Chapter 4**

**Evin**

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**-_20 years previous-_**

**_-_****Raenna-**

***Bold dialogue is Black Speech***

My whole life I had been prepared to do his bidding. But nothing could have prepared me for what he gave me. He said that he had discovered the candidate sires for the prophecy children. His daughter, (lucky brat) would get the dwarven side and I would get the orcish side.

When I had first heard, I had taken my leave and fled to my room, breaking down in tears as soon had I crossed the threshold. I was to carry the child of an orc. I wish he could figure out another way to complete prophecy, but no, this was the only way. So it was my destiny to bear a half blood monstrosity.

I sat in a chair, my back straight as if a board was stuck up my dress. It faced a mirror; I stared at the woman in front of me. I couldn't understand how she could be so beautiful when her inside was dark and cruel. My hair was black and silky as ebony, my skin was a flawless cream, and my eyes were the color of luminescent sapphires.

I hated the beauty in front of me. It was all a show, a show to seduce whatever orc was chosen for me. I scoffed bitterly, it wouldn't take much. Orcs would bed whoever was put in front of them. My appearance would only spur them on.

I heard the very faintest of footsteps at my door. I flicked my eyes to the individual. It was my mother. My mother was a witch, a very powerful one at that. She had built a dark cruel kingdom from the sidelines. Letting the powerful frightening figureheads make the kingdom's name strike fear in people's hearts. But now her time had almost come, she would no longer rule from the sidelines.

"Rae, dear girl, whatever is the matter?" I heard the faintest hint of mockery in her voice.

"Nothing, mother." I replied.

"Oh Rae, you know you're in charge of one of the most important parts of this entire plan!" She came to my side, laying her hands on my shoulders and looking into the mirror.

We had the same eyes – and hair at some point. She was ancient beyond belief, her eyes glittered with insanity. I feared that one day I would become like her, a crazy maniac.

"I am aware of that." I said through gritted teeth.

"I know you're darling!" She kissed my cheek.

"He really isn't that bad. He isn't like other orc generals, he isn't twisted and hideous. He is actually, quite pale." She gave a very giddy giggle and waltzed out of the room.

_Pale? _ I had never heard of a pale orc before. It made me sick to know my own mother was giddy for me to be basically raped by an orc. Such love.

-R-

It was time, the time had come. Here I was, in the middle of a merchant caravan, waiting for the orcs to attack and kill everyone. They had been told that there was a gift waiting for them in this certain caravan. I was to approach them with confidence and charm. Apparently the leader (future father of my child) had been torn away from hunting dwarves, the dwarves who my peer was in company with.

I felt my stomach twisting and knotting violently, my mouth was dry and my eyes wide. Any moment now, a howl pierced the air. I felt all color drain from my face as the orcs came out of the trees. They rushed around me killing and burning, their wargs tearing at everything. My sapphire eyes flicked up. There, a few yards in front of me, was the pale orc.

The white warg he rode was anxious, it wanted to kill. But the rider, he watched me with intense curiosity. What my mother said was true, he wasn't like the other orcs, he wasn't (as) vile and deformed, his skin was white but it was marred with scars, his left arm was chopped off below the elbow and had a cruel hook instead, his eyes were pale as his skin, they were watching my every move.

**"You, you're the gift the Master sent us?" **He asked in Black Speech.

**"Yes, I am." **I replied as strongly as I could.

**"You weren't what I was expecting, you're a human."** He spat, making his warg circle around me.

I swallowed.

**"Half human."** I corrected, wincing in realization that I might have angered him.

His eyes snapped to my face, I met his eyes; he was smirking in a most disconcerting way.

**"Why would they send one of their prized daughters to me?" **he asked in an almost mocking tone.

**"You will know soon enough."**I gulped.

He scrutinized me for a brief moment, the warg prowling closer to me.

**"You are very beautiful." **He whispered after a moment, his still intact hand touching my cheek.

I felt tears begin to well up inside me, this isn't what I wanted. Why couldn't Fern have been in my place? I am sure dwarves are much more civilized than orcs!

I felt his hand grabbed my chin and force me to look up at him. He was much taller than I, and on his warg he towered above me. I looked up at him, his face bore a smug look, he knew I was terrified.

**"Why are you afraid, little witch?"**

**"Why do you think?"** I retorted, trying to sound strong.

**"You're afraid of me, even though you could kill me with your magic."** He asked it almost as a question.

I was silent.

**"Answer."** His grip on my chin tightened.

**"Y-yes."**

**"Good."** He smirked in triumph.

The next thing I knew I was thrown onto the back of the white warg and the pack was moving at terrifying speeds. The day grew cloudy and dark as the pack continued, they did not stop once. Soon a cruel looking mountain appeared in front of us, Gundabad.

We went through a dark gate which looked like a gaping mouth of some beast. I knew it would be a long time till I was free again.

**-R-**

I was alone, in a cave, with him. My breathing was shallow and I felt nauseous. He circled me like a predator circles its prey.

**"Why have they sent you?"** He asked finally.

I realized he didn't know my purpose.

**"To fulfill the prophecy."**

**"Mallus is still trying to fulfill it? Old fool. I have spared many orcs to his experiments, they have all failed."** Azog spat.

I tried to hold back tears.

**"He has figured out a way to create the children from the prophecy." **

Azog stopped in his tracks, his pale eyes searched my face.

**"I see."** He said softly, his mind connecting the words I had said.

**"The children must be of magical blood."** I explained, feeling a silent tear come down my cheek.

**"That woman traveling with those dwarves? She is Mallus's daughter, isn't she?."** He asked.

**"Yes, if she succeeds she will bear Oakenshield's child, the first of the prophesied ones." **

**"And you're to bear the second." **He came to stand in front of me; I could not read his expression.

**"Yes."** My voice was a hoarse whisper.

**"And the child would be used for Mallus' purposes?" **

**"That is what he is intending."**

**"I will not allow it."**Azog growled. He put his pale hand to my cheek.

I realized something, a flaw in the plan. If I had a child, specifically a boy, Azog wasn't going to let me and the child leave and go to Mallus, not willingly at least.

**"Oakenshield's child, would they be raised near one another?"**

**"Y-yes."**The gleam in his eyes was dangerous.

He was fuming.

**"That fool would _dare_ to raise my own blood alongside that dwarf's? I imagine you agree with him?!"** Azog spat, his hand moving to my throat.

**"Please! He wishes me alive!" **I cried out, my hands gripping his forearm in attempt to stop him.

His anger seemed to melt away.

**"Why would I kill you? You will need to be unhurt in order to bear my child."** The hand which was about to smote me was lowered and he gently touched my cheek in a sickeningly gentle way.

**-R-**

I was humiliated, dirty, and violated. I was on the ground inside of a rather roomy cage, which had a bed and looked out over a cut out hole in the wall. It had been three days since he had taken me. Afterwards he had had a cage brought into the cave where an old female orc had told him ways to keep me healthy, which was unspoiled food, fresh air, and a cleaner area for me to live. Azog had agreed to the terms. He wanted me to have a child. There was still the chance I wasn't pregnant, in that case he would take me again. I shuddered at the thought.

The cage was surprisingly clean and the air in the cave was fresh thanks to the recently cut square hole in the wall. I spent my day looking out the window and wondering if I would ever leave this cage. Twice a day two female orcs would come to the cage and give me fresh bread, meat and water. If I tried to engage them in conversation they would simply shake their heads. The days wore on and I became increasingly bored and anxious. Until one day Azog came in, he had on armor.

**"I do not know if I will be back, I lead an army to the Lonely Mountain. I do hope you're with child." **

That was all he said before he left.

I stared hopelessly out the window, below was the gate of Gundabad. A vast army of orcs and goblins filed out, in front of them was Azog, astride the white warg. In that moment I felt bitterness, I hoped that I was not pregnant, maybe I would be able to escape and hide from Mallus and my mother. But then that hoped vanished. I was stuck, in a cage, for who knows how long.

**-R-**

A month passed, and I began to feel sick. The visits from the female orcs increased daily once I started to throw up. The throwing up and the boredom was making me go insane. I had nothing to do beside stare out the window and count the ants walking up the stone wall. The old female orc must have noticed this.

One day, just like all the others, I threw up as soon as my eyes opened. I groaned and got out of bed. The female orcs came in and cleaned up the vomit, as usual. But this time several orcs (who I could not tell the gender of) came in with a crudely made table and chair. The oldest female handed me a book and a charcoal pen. She was wordless but I understood what she meant. She had heard my silent pleas of insanity.

I sat down in the chair and opened the book on the table. All the pages were blank and unmarked. I smiled, I now had time to practice my below average art skills. I slid the chair up to the table, and then I realized something. My stomach was reaching the table. My eyes widened in horror as I reached down and pulled my brown tunic up. There, on the usually flat plane of my stomach, was a firm little bump – a baby bump. I felt a wave of emotions hit me, anger, fear, love and excitement. But I found fear was the most prominent.

I was with child.

**-R-**

A few days later, when I was practicing drawing a 'detailed' ant, I heard shuffling outside the cave entrance. The noise confused me, the females had come not even twenty minutes ago, and I hadn't thrown up. I stood and went to the bars of the cage and peered out cautiously. There, leaning heavily on the cave entrance, was Azog. He was bloody and wounded; he was clearly in terrible pain.

**"I see you're alive."**He gasped out.

**"As are you, barely."** I said, my eyes narrowing.

For some reason I wasn't afraid of him, now that I was with child and safely behind bars.

**"The dwarves had more allies than we anticipated."** He said, moving slowly over to my cage.

His eyes were filled with pain, but he was ignoring it and examining me.

**"Are you with child?" **He asked after a moment.

**"Yes."** I said softly.

**"Show me."** He growled. It was obvious he thought I was lying.

Without hesitation I lifted my tunic up and revealed my growing stomach. He reached a hand through the bars and set it on the little bump. I held back a wince as his cold, bloody, pale fingers touched my stomach.

A smirk twisted on his face.

**"Good, I do hope it is a son. I have no use for females." **

Fear clenched my heart; I knew that if I gave birth to a girl he would kill the child. In my heart I knew I couldn't allow him to do that… but yet, how could I love this child of rape?

**-R-**

** _Eight months later…_**

The cabin fever was killing me slowly, that or my huge stomach, or the cold weather. Either way, I was miserable. I just hoped the baby would come soon. I had long since filled up the pages in my first little book, I had asked for a new one, and then another, and many more after that. I had to say, I could draw the most realistic ant anyone had ever seen. During the spring months a bird family had moved in right outside my window. I would lean out and give the three baby birds little pieces of bread. I had also mastered drawing birds.

Azog would often come to see me, as if checking to make sure I was still pregnant and hadn't secretly given birth and thrown the baby out the window or something ridiculous like that. For some reason I felt like he had started to enjoy my presence. It was almost complete silence whenever he came. We had nothing to say to one another.

He did have an odd habit of taking my journals and giving them back a few days later, it was like he was checking for conspiracy plot. I would laugh, all he would find were pictures of ants, birds, and other things that filled my cage. I also kept a brief hidden log of my pregnancy; it was slightly coded in my curly script. He wouldn't be able to read it even if he did find it. I would tear out a few pieces of paper from each book I received, making it inconspicuous.

One day I was drawing in my journal, I wasn't sure what it was, it had started out as an ant, but then turned into a bird ant hybrid. I heard the heavy footsteps of Azog coming into the cave. Normally I would have snapped the book shut. But at this point I didn't even care.

He came to a stop right outside the cage, he was watching me intently. He had healed from the battle; many new scars littered his body.

**"That's new."** He said with something I might have considered sarcasm.

I didn't answer because a sharp kick from the baby knocked the air out of my lungs.

**"Did it just… kick you?"** He asked, he sounded confused.

**"Yes, it always does that." **I grunted, sending a small glare in his direction.

I couldn't read Azog's expression, but he seemed to be thinking.

**"Surely it will be born soon?"**

**"Any day now."** I sighed, I really wasn't in the mood for talking.

He didn't answer; he was looking intently at my face.

**"If it is a girl what will you do?"** I asked, feeling very daring.

**"It depends on how healthy it is. If it is healthy I will allow it to go to Mallus. But if it is weak I will kill it." **

I didn't know what to say.

**"You would allow it to be raised alongside the dwarf's child?"** I asked.

**"Are you trying to change my mind?" **

I swallowed.

**"No." **

**"Good, because only out of pity would I let it go to Mallus. But I assure you; if it is a son I will keep him here and raise him to be like us." **

My eyes narrowed, I felt a surge protectiveness over my child and anger towards him.

**"I do hope it's a healthy girl."** I spat.

He smirked at my angry reply.

**-R-**

The day came. I had been drawing another ant-bird hybrid when a fierce contraction hit my stomach, I cried out in pain. The female orcs had been staying close to me the past few weeks. One of the younger ones came in and saw my state, she immediately ran back out to get the others.

Before I knew it there were several females around me, they were boiling water in an all but clean pot and putting rags into it. I lay there for what seemed an eternity, painful contractions making me cry out in pain. I was weak and spent; I feared I wouldn't be able to push the child out.

But then, when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, I felt the need to push. I cried out, and waved the eldest orc over. She looked and nodded, it was time.

It took all of three painful pushes and the baby was out. I collapsed in exhaustion, and then I heard a little cough, sniffle, and then a whimper. I was afraid to open my eyes and look at my own child. But hesitantly I opened my eyes to look at the child before me.

It was a boy, a healthy baby boy.

His skin was white and flawless, and his had a bit of black hair on his head. He was whimpering, not wailing, whimpering softly. I felt my heart melt with a warm feeling, this was my son. I felt tears prick my eyes at the sight of my own little son. My whole pregnancy had been centered on disliking this child of rape. But now my heart had filled swiftly with love at the sight of him.

I almost objected when they took him away to be cleaned. But they brought him back soon after, he was wrapped in a rough blanket, his skin was pearl white and his hair was an adorable black fluff. But he hadn't opened his eyes yet. The orc elder was silently telling me to do something. My eyes widened when I realized she wanted me to feed him.

Soon enough I had the child eating, it was one of the oddest things I had ever experienced. He was drinking happily, but then he pulled away. I tried to get him to drink more but he refused. I shrugged and pulled my shirt down. I held my baby boy in my arms, watching his little face.

I decided he looked very human. He could have been a human baby if it hadn't been for his freakishly white skin and slightly pointed ears. I sat on the bed holding him, thinking, when he suddenly began to open his eyes. He opened them a crack, then all the way. I gasped. He had my eyes. My own big sapphire eyes looked up at me.

Even at his young age they were sparkling with intelligence. They watched me, intently. Then slowly, he raised a little pale hand up towards my face. I smiled, tears in my eyes, I took his small hand in my own. His little hand closed around my finger. He had stolen my heart.

"Evin." I whispered, remembering the name from when I was a child. It meant swift, in honor of my swift love towards him.

I wished that this moment could never end. But it did when the sound of heavy footfalls came from the door. I held Evin to my chest protectively.

Azog was at the door, smirking.

**"I heard you have given me a son."** He said.

I glared at him.

He came over to my cage, opened the door and came in. I was surprised to see how high the ceiling was, he stood comfortably.

**"Let me see him."** He growled.

**"Why should I?"** I spat.

The glare he gave me made me rethink my words. I slowly pulled Evin away from my chest, Azog watched intently. A twisted grin came to his face when he saw Evin's pale little face.

**"He is pale."** Azog said.

**"Problem?"** I growled.

**"No, he is perfect. It is a boy, correct?"**

**"Yes."**

Azog looked at Evin for a moment.

**"What to name him…"** Azog said as if to himself.

Azog flicked his eyes to me.

**"What have you named him?" **He asked.

I gulped.

"Evin."

He smirked.

**"An ordinary name, don't you think?"**

"Aye, it is." I said, forgetting to speak Black Speech.

**"He won't be called by that name,"** Azog declared.

**"He will be called Baalakdush."**

I inwardly cringed at the name; it was orcish to a fault, and if I wasn't correct it meant 'half blood sorcerer'. At that time Evin opened his eyes. His oddly intelligent eyes took in his surroundings, Azog stood transfixed by his son's eyes.

Evin caught his father's gaze. I almost smirked when the child sent his equivalent of a glare towards his father.

**"He is strong,"** Azog said, almost proudly. **"He will be a good leader."**

I glared up at him. I was surer than ever now, Azog would not raise my son.

**-R-**

After Evin was born I had not seen Azog again. And I was glad; I didn't want him around my little Evin. My baby was a happy and content child. He never cried, just gave pitiful little whimpers until I gave him what he wanted.

Two months had passed and I was recovered and Evin was growing. Oddly, he was the size of any normal human child, strange with his orc blood. I knew he was going to be tall, his legs and torso were long and lean. Honestly he had the build of a string bean, with chubby cheeks. His black fluff had started to grow more as well.

I was surprisingly happy, I had my baby. But I feared I didn't have my sanity, I had been cooped up in this cage for almost a year. I wanted out. But I was fairly sure Azog wasn't going to let me out, not with Evin at least.

I had Evin on his tummy lying on my chest; he had given up a few minutes before on keeping his head up. Now he was just resting on my chest, looking at the window. He was so sweet, gentle, and relaxed. I smiled and stroked his downy black hair. But our sweet moment was ruined when I heard the loud coming of heavy footsteps. _Azog._

He came into the cave in a flurry of anger. He arm reached through the bars and slammed a piece of paper onto the table. My eyes were wide, he was furious.

I took Evin and laid him gently on the bed; he cooed and reached his arms for me. I sent him a small smile. I went over to the table and picked up the piece of paper. It was a note, from Mallus.

_I know Raenna has given birth to a son. You cannot hide him from me. Don't even try. He is to be used to fulfill the prophecy. There is nothing you can do to protect him from me. You have three days to send the mother and child to me. _

_You cannot hide him._

_~Mallus_

I re-read the letter three times, making sure I hadn't missed anything.

**"I will not allow my son to be used by sorcerers!"** Azog spat.

I said nothing. I felt his eyes watching me, he wanted my opinion. A sinking feeling came to my stomach when I saw the look on his face.

**"I cannot hide him, but you can."** He realized. It was true, with my magic I could protect him from Mallus.

**"You want me to hide him from Mallus?"** I asked, fear welling up inside me.

**"You could take him away and raise him, away from him."** His eyes were gleaming with a light that frightened me.

**"Mallus will find me."** I whispered, knowing that it would be a hopeless cause.

**"Don't lie. I know you don't wish him to be raised here, or with Mallus."** He gave me a knowing look.

I gave a sharp nod.

**"You will bring him back to me when he is old enough."**

**"You do realize that I may not raise him in a way you see fit?"**

He gave a very irritated huff.

**"You agree with me, yet you still try and change my mind." **

I looked down.

**"Mallus will kill me if he realizes that I was not loyal to him."**

Azog smirked.

**"So you will raise him in a place I choose?"**

My eyes widened slightly, where he chose? No, I wouldn't raise Evin where his father knew where he was. I felt a plot forming in my mind, I would hide my son away from both Mallus and Azog.

My son would be incognito.

**Please tell me what you think, I know, a lot of unanswered questions that will be answered later in the story.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I hope I get more feedback on the chapter. I understand that I shocked you all but please, review. It really encourages me to write :)**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Thróra**

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I was seeing stars, my father was a king. I was a princess. I inwardly scoffed; of course it was just my luck that I would be the bastard child of a king.

"Forgive me. I believe I have said too much." Gandalf apologized.

My jaw was slack.

"Does he know about me?"

"No, and I don't think he will be pleased either." The grey wizard grumbled.

I sat back in disbelief.

"Way to go mom!" I said sarcastically.

I was pretty sure the wizard smirked at my comment. I sighed and attempted to put my head in my hands, the action caused pain to go through my arms. I hissed and looked back down at my limbs. They were bandaged up to the palm and starting to beginning to hurt worse by the minute. I saw the wizard pull something out of his never ending wizard pockets and hand it to me. It was a small vial. I awkwardly popped the cork with my bandaged hands and sniffed it. A wave of foul stench hit my nose, I gagged.

"It will help with the pain and healing process," Gandalf said.

I glared at him before swigging down the foul potion. A grimace came to my face as the gritty liquid slid down my throat.

"Do you have any water?" I choked.

The wizard handed me a water skin without looking. I swigged down the lukewarm water greedily. Soon nothing more than a bitter taste remained in my mouth. My arms, I came to realize, were starting to numb.

"What is that stuff?" I asked.

"A potion of my brewing," He answered, not giving much away.

We sat in silence for a long while, the cart rumbling down the road. I started to get antsy; I had no idea what I was going to do. Here I was, on a cart, with a wizard, my mother dead, my father a king, and a blood thirsty orc after my head.

Then Gandalf pulled out a pipe and stuffed some pipe-weed into it. I was surprised when a small flame came from his finger.

"Neat trick," I smirked.

The grey wizard looked up through a screen of smoke.

"Trick? This isn't a trick."

I laughed.

"I've grown up in a circus with frauds in every direction, c'mon; tell me how you did it?"

"My dear, this is no trick, purely magic." He said as he took a deep breath of smoke.

I snorted.

"There is no such thing as magic."

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. He held his finger out and a little flame burst forth on the tip of his finger. I had to admit, that looked a lot like magic.

"I bet I can do it." I said, a challenge in my eye.

"Mmm, I'd like to see you try." He replied, focusing on his pipe.

I lifted my finger into the air and focused on making a flame come from the tip. The little voice of reason in my head was telling me that I was just going to make a fool of myself. Then a little surge of anger coursed through me, I would prove this old man wrong. A prick and warm tickle came from my finger. I let out a triumphant yell, on the tip of my finger was a little flame. Flickering and dancing on the edges of extinguishment.

Gandalf looked at me with what could have been considered amazement and borderline horror.

"Impossible…" he whispered.

"Ha, discovered your trick, didn't I!" I grinned.

"You shouldn't be able to do that unless –"He stopped.

"Unless what?"

"It is nothing, do not use that power for others to see." He said as he slapped the reigns of the mule. The cart began to move faster.

I lost concentration and the little flame went out. Then I realized something, I hadn't done anything to cause the flame, nothing at all. Then an icy weight settled in my stomach. I had done something that wasn't natural.

And that scared me.

-T-

_A month later…_

Well, over the span of a month I had learned that Gandalf was actually a real wizard, my arms were healed, and that the dwarf we were going to see was a friend of my father, and so you can imagine how I felt as our cart rolled into the bustling city of Dale. Vala my stomach was in knots, but on the outside I looked collected. It was a trait I had practiced; fear wasn't something an audience wanted to see from an acrobat.

I had never seen so much life and excitement within a city before. There were merchants yelling, children playing, woman of man and dwarf were walking around with baskets full of the goods of Dale. It was truly a sight to behold. The huge lone mountain towering above it helped the sight factor. I wondered why it was the only mountain in the area.

I had a ridiculous grin on my face. I held my hat on with a scarred hand. The fire had left my arms covered in with rippled scars. I still wore the leather bracers that my Uncle Fergus had given me, they reminded me of home.

The cart made a few turns and we started to get past the busiest parts of the city. The atmosphere was much more calm and refined.

"Thróra, if you wouldn't mind waiting before introducing yourself. I don't think you're what they expect. Just wait behind the cart till I call you." Gandalf stated.

Normally I wouldn't listen to authority but today I was willing to do whatever the old wizard said. We pulled up to the side of a shop, the sound of an accented voice telling a dramatic story carried over to my ears. I snuck a peak at Gandalf's face; he had a fond smile underneath that bushy grey beard. I hopped down from the cart, Gandalf followed in a much slower manner.

"Wait here." He reminded me.

I sighed and leaned against the cart.

**-Bofur's POV-**

I had just finished recalling the valiant tale of how Thorin Oakenshield killed a numberless amount of foes in the Battle of Five Armies to a group of youngsters when I saw a familiar grey clad wizard.

"Gandalf!" I called out fondly.

"Ah, Bofur, I see you're doing well." He walked over with his staff and leaned against the wall of the shop.

"What brings you here?"

"I am afraid it has to do with Thorin." He sighed.

A cloud of worry descended over the shop.

"What about him? He is doing well the last I heard."

"Ah yes, well, this is more about Fern." He cleared his throat.

"What about her?" I growled. I had no love for the stuck up, beautiful, woman who joined our company.

"Well, it has to do with the consequences of their romance."

I inwardly groaned.

"Gandalf, he doesn't want us talking about her. Tíerra doesn't even know she exists!"

"I am afraid that she will find out soon enough."

A feeling of dread slid into my blood.

"What do ya mean?" I asked.

"Come, I have someone you need to meet." Gandalf beckoned me.

I followed the wizard to behind my shop, there was a cart there with a mule tied to the front. I looked around for this person Gandalf was speaking of. I heard the wizard give a frustrated snort.

"Where did you go, child?" He said.

Then a girl stepped out from behind the cart. She had a top hat on and her clothes looked like she came from gypsy background. But then I saw her face and hair.

My heart stopped beating for a moment.

She had the same strong chiseled features of my king, the same curly onyx hair, and the same steely blue eyes.

This was Thorin's daughter.

Then I started to notice her human features. She was far too slender to be a dwarf, and her face carried the same beauty that her mother bore. I took a deep breath, this wasn't good. Thorin had a young son and a wife. This was his first born, his first born, half blood, illegitimate, daughter.

"Hello," She said, her voice had the underlying tones of nervousness.

"Hello, lass," I smiled.

She was afraid, it was obvious. I couldn't help but show her kindness. She would need someone to rely on, especially in the coming months.

"I imagine you already know who this is." Gandalf said.

She looked down with what I saw as shame.

"Aye, I do." I sighed.

There was a silence for a moment.

"Well, I do believe there isn't any use talking out here, let's get inside!" I waved them towards the side door.

The girl kept her head down and eyes on the floor. I didn't know her but I could tell this wasn't her usually behavior. The wizard and girl came into me and my cousin's humble abode. It wasn't much but it was home. Even though Erebor had been retaken and I was offered a home with my kin, me and my cousin, Bifur, had decided to open a toy shop in Dale. It was much more exciting, we got many interesting costumers.

There was a table and chairs set in the middle of the room, off to the side was a fully stocked kitchen. My brother, Bombur, loved to cook when he came for his weekly visits. Matter of fact, tonight was the night he would be coming over for a visit. I pulled out a chair for Thorin's daughter; she gave a nod and sat down. I noticed the terrible burn scars that ran up both arms. This lass was tough.

"Some tea would be lovely, Bofur." Gandalf said with a smile. He was trying to breaking the tension in the air.

I walked over to the kitchen and started to prepare the tea.

"So, what do people call you?" I asked, taking the kettle from a cupboard.

"Thróra Rivers, or Pip is what my uncles called me."

"Pip, eh?"

She snorted.

"Shortened from pipsqueak,"

"That's not a very regale name!" I laughed.

"No, but it's better as Pip. They changed it as I grew, even though I'm still short." I heard her grumble.

"Well, that's no surprise considering your father is a dwarf!" I said nonchalantly.

"What?!" Her voice had a ragged edge that I had heard in Thorin's voice so many times.

I looked up and saw her face, it was flushed with anger. She gave Gandalf a searing glare.

"Boy, that's a nice thing to know!" She yelled, as she stood and slammed her hands down on the table.

"Was it that convenient to leave out? Honestly, you could have told me! Do you know how many times I was teased as a child for being short?" She was enraged. _'Father like daughter." _I mused as I watched her rant at the wizard.

When she was done her breath was heavy and Gandalf was smoking his pipe like nothing happened. Then I heard a grunt in Khuzdul, all eyes looked to the door. Bifur stood there with several baskets from the market. His eyes were wide and his jaw was slack. He saw the resemblance as well.

"Ah, Bifur, this is Thróra. She's Thorin's daughter." I said in the most cheerful tone I could muster.

He asked me who her mother was.

"Fern."

"How do you know my mother?" She asked.

"She joined our company when we reclaimed our home, Erebor."

Thróra's eyes widened.

"So that's it!" She whispered.

"What's what?" I asked.

"When my mother went crazy she would talk to herself, and Erebor was one of the many things she would mention. And I never knew what it was until now." Thróra said, the ghost of a triumphant smile on her face.

"She went crazy?" I asked, my eyes widened.

"Oh yeah, she would talk to herself all the time. By the time I was about seven she was a terrible mother."

The tone in her voice was what disturbed me. She acted as if it was normal. Dwarven mothers were loyal and loving to their children, they would never become poor mothers. It just wasn't right.

"Lass, were you alright?"

"Of course I was! I learned how to rob a man blind in three seconds flat by the time I was ten!" Thróra said defensively.

My jaw dropped. She was the daughter of a king! She should have lived in Erebor as a princess, not a gypsy street rat! It pained me to hear this.

"I wish your mother would have sent you here, you would have had it easy!"

"Really? You think I would have? Because from what I've heard about my father he won't want me here."

I sighed.

"It's not that he won't want you, it's just, he isn't expecting you!" I said, failing royally at reassuring her.

She just gave a halfhearted glare. Then a few grunts in Khuzdul reminded me that my cousin was still there. He had asked where her mother was.

"What did he say?" Thróra asked.

"He asked where your mother is."

She was silent for a few moments.

"Dead, she was killed when our caravan was attacked by orcs." Her voice was pained.

The air was dead with silence.

"Oh lass, I'm so sorry, I didn't know!"

"Don't apologize, she deserved it." Her voice was cold with anger and sadness.

"And it wasn't just any orcs either," Gandalf spoke up. "It was Azog."

At the mention of the pale orcs name Thróra tensed up, well, everyone tensed up.

"So that's were that filth has been, attacking caravans! Coward, Thorin has been searching for him for years." I said angrily.

A shout of Khuzdul came from Bifur. He said we needed to tell Thorin immediately.

"Aye, I agree, Thorin must know about this." I said.

"I do not think it wise for Thorin to be directly approached about the appearance of a daughter he didn't know existed. It would be better if we summoned the ones closest to him and knew Fern." Gandalf said.

"Bombur will be here this evening, we can send him the word. We will have a little reunion here this evening."

I saw Thróra pale.

"Don't worry lass, they'll understand." I smiled, hoping my words were comforting.

Mahal, I hoped it would be alright.

* * *

**Please review! The next chapter will be back with Rae and little Evin, their story is far from over.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Quick AN: Let me warn you, a lot of information in this chapter. It's pretty long as well. Also, keep in mind that this is around a year after the BoFA and Thróra is still a child. Once again, ****dark themes mentioned in the beginning.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Evin**

**-Raenna's POV-**

* * *

I twisted my wet hair and water droplets cascaded down and hit the smooth stone under my feet. Azog had allowed me to bathe, thank the Valar above. While I had been pregnant I had been allowed to wash my hair once a month and use a cloth to clean my body. But this time I was actually able to bathe. It was glorious.

I slid the new dress over my head, it was a deep burgundy. I wondered how on earth the orcs had a garment so fine. But then I saw the bloodstain and the sloppy mend on the chest and realized that they had killed the previous owner.

My little Evin lay a few feet away, content on the warg hide beneath him. I had wiped him down earlier. He was too young to fully submerge in the water. The little baby was simply lying there, cooing softly to himself. I smiled and walked over to him. His big sapphire eyes flicked to my face when I stood above him.

"And what are you doing?" I said playfully to him.

Then his little lips tugged up and showed his gums in his first real smile. I grinned in return, bending down and stroking his soft black hair. His small white hand reached its way up to mine on his head. I laughed softly and picked him up. I held him close to my chest smiling as he gave me a soft coo.

**"You coddle him too much." **Azog's deep voice scolded from behind me.

**"I can raise him as I please." **I hissed, not looking at him.

**"I suppose."**

I heard heavy footfalls come close behind us. Evin had gone quiet, his vivid blue eyes looking up at me, almost as if asking a question.

**"Get up and come with me."** He ordered.

I obeyed, what else was I supposed to do? We walked through the once fine halls of Gundabad. Orcs who passed us looked at me strangely, looked at Evin even more. _'Of course they wouldn't know about Evin, Azog has kept me hidden.' _I thought as we walked into a different stone room. There was a warg skin hung over the door. Azog pushed it open and nodded for me to go in.

This room was smaller than the room I had been living in for the past year. There were no windows and it had two large torches on the walls and in the center there was what seemed to be a bed. Well, it was quite a few animals skins piled on top of one another making a mound off the floor.

**"You will stay with me tonight. I don't want that wizard to take you early." **Azog said.

The thought of Evin being around Azog for a long period of time made me queasy. I didn't want him to have anything to do with Evin. At the moment Evin had his eyes half closed and made a little noise as he yawned. I felt a hand on my back, pushing me forward. I could feel how cold Azog's hand was through my dress.

He pushed me forward until we were on the furs. I could tell he wanted me to lie down. So I did. Azog's presence was like an overwhelming shadow beside me. Our size differences were staggering. I was a nice height, I wasn't short but I wasn't tall. But compared to Azog I was dwarfed. I tried to ignore him and focus on getting my sleepy baby comfortable beside me. Evin's brows were furrowed and his lip was turned down in a scowl. I carefully moved him from my arms, to my side.

I had almost forgotten the pale orc's presence until his remaining arm curled around me and started to touch my son's hair. I felt an icy rage seep into my blood. He could tell I was displeased.

**"You don't like me touching him?"**

**"No, I don't."**

**"I am his father."**

**"Exactly, I don't want you touching him."**

**"Would you rather I touch you?" **

I was silent at that. Memories of Evin's conception came up to the surface from where they were buried deep in my memory. There was his breath on my neck as he nuzzled me and slide his hand through my damp hair. His lips moved on my neck. He held me closer to him; I felt his cold body pressed against me.

**"S-stop." **I choked out.

To my surprise, he stopped. He pulled away and leaned over me, his arm holding his body aloft over mine. His eyes were looking into my own. There was a cold mirth in their pale depths that gave me shivers. I wondered what he was thinking. I wanted to reach inside of his mind and see his thoughts.

_"Oh, but you can, dear." _The cold voice of my mother said within my head. And I realized the voice was right. I could read his thoughts. The dark magic of my mother gave me the power to see the thoughts of others, plant ideas in their minds, and speak to them without using words. It was a burden I had carried my whole life. My magic was a dark power that had always dwelled within me. I felt its allure calling me, to feel the power of the magic flowing through my veins. It wanted to be used.

So I used it.

My hand move up to his face, to him it would be merely a sign of affection. It wasn't. I placed two fingers inconspicuously over his temple. Then I reached into his mind. Small tendrils of black power emitted from my fingers and seeped into his temple. He couldn't feel anything different.

His thoughts and memories hit me like a wave of stone. At first it was overwhelming, then I started to pick through his mind, finding the thoughts that concerned me. It was all rather disturbing. I went through everything that had ever happened to him. Several things were the most monumental for him, gaining his scars, losing his arm, letting Thorin Oakenshield win two battles, and meeting me.

My eyes had been closed all the while, but they snapped open when they came to those thoughts. He had been worried for me all throughout the pregnancy, not for the baby, for me. When he read the letter he was angrier over loosing me than Evin going to Mallus. This, in a way, touched me. This giant, cruel, brute of an orc, actually, way down deep where no one could see, cared for me. I couldn't even imagine what would happen if he discovered I had found this out. He had tried very hard to keep it hidden.

My grip on his memories loosened so that my magic was barely touching his mind. I read his current thoughts. He was wondering what I was doing. He could tell that I was doing something strange… And he thought I was beautiful and he wanted to have me. I suppressed a groan. Then I pulled my hand away from his face. His pale blue eyes stared hard into mine.

**"What are you doing?" **He asked.

**"Nothing,"**

**"Don't lie to me." **

**"I'm thinking about my son, and what he will become."**

**"Our son," **he added leaning closer to me and touching foreheads. I closed my eyes and couldn't help but feel his thoughts again.

He was thinking about Evin as well. He feared that he would grow to be weak if I raised him, but yet, he trusted me enough to make him strong. Azog also didn't like that I was so tense, he wished I would relax and see that he would not hurt me or his son. _His son. _The way he mentally worded it made me shiver. He processed my shiver and he pulled away, our mental connection was broken.

He sat up and looked away from me. Then Evin started to whimper. It was the most heartbreaking thing for me to hear. The little babe never wailed, always a pitiful whimper. I turned to my baby and picked him up, bouncing to calm him down. He stopped and looked up at me, a tear in the corner of his eye, he was still sniffling.

"Don't cry little one, mamma's here." I soothed, wiping his tear away.

**"Sleep now." **Azog told me. I silently obeyed, laying down and wrapping my arms around Evin in a protective manner.

Sleep didn't come easy. It was probably having Azog lying beside me, his arm curled around me and Evin. He had relaxed and his breathing had softened soon after. Evin was asleep again, thank goodness. This was all so strange to me. Azog had showed no compassion towards me until now. I wonder if it was triggered by my sudden departure. It was a level of vulnerability I didn't expect to see in him. My mind was growing sluggish with sleep. The steady beat of his heart a thrumming against my back. It was with that steady feeling that I closed my eyes and fell into the sweet oblivion of sleep.

-R-

The next morning was quite frightening for me. Azog wasn't there when I woke. Instead, he sent two large, very scary looking orcs to fetch me and Evin. They had taken us through the maze-like tunnels of Gundabad. Orcs would hiss and jeer as we passed, which earned them a good knock on the head from one of my guards. I kept Evin wrapped up tightly in a blanket, his face hidden from the leering foul creatures that passed us. It took longer that what was comfortable for me to get to the main gates.

The sun was blinding, my eyes burned and the world was white. My eyes were clenched shut but I kept walking forward. I was stopped by two large hands on my shoulders. The suns blinding light had subsided, I risked opening my eyes. Before me was Azog standing tall, the sun reflecting on his white skin. Behind him were two wargs, several packs were loaded onto its back. They were ready for a journey.

**"Are you well?"** Azog asked, his voice gruff.

**"I've been better."**

Azog glowered at that remark.

**"You will be escorted by them," **Azog gestured to the two monstrous orcs behind me. **"They will not hurt you or the baby." **His pointed glare towards them did not escape my notice.** "If I find that you have betrayed me and escaped, I will not stop hunting you down. I will find you and the boy." **Azog threatened.

Those words made my blood turn to ice.

**"Even if I wanted to I couldn't. My magic is much too weak." **I said. Inwardly chuckling, these brutes would cause me no challenge. I felt them tense up when I mentioned magic.

I had found it a common occurrence that orcs didn't like magic of any form; they feared it with all their might. This would be easier than I thought. Azog's threat rang in my mind, I pushed it away.

I felt the cold, leathery fingers of Azog run against my cheek. I looked up and met his eyes. Through the contact of our skin I read his thoughts.

He didn't want to see me go, he had faith in the orcs, Zar and Zuz, to keep me safe, and he thought me beautiful in the sunlight. His ice shard eyes narrowed in suspicion, and then I felt words form.

_'Raise him well.'_

Then I sent the words to his mind.

_'I will.'_

There was a pause.

_'You read thoughts, don't you?'_

The tone of his mind voice sounded defeated.

_'Possibly…'_

He left it at that and turned me by my shoulders to face Zuz and Zar.

**"If you let harm come to her or the baby you will be killed in the most painful way possible."** Azog snarled to the two orcs.

**"She'll be safe with us, Master." **One orc said, he had a milky white eye.

Azog looked at me one last time. Then he let his eyes drag down to Evin. The baby's little white nose was barely visible from the rags he was wrapped in. Azog extended his hand to brush against Evin's blanket. He pulled his hand away and glanced to my escorts.

Then the orc with the milky eye hoisted me up onto one of the wargs. I was seated behind the second orc, he had feathers braided into the matted, greasy locks of hair. The orcs shouted harsh words to the wargs, the giant canines sprang forth. As we raced away, the dust flying in clouds behind us, I turned my neck to look at the pale orc one last time. He stood, still as stone, watching us go into the distance. Soon he was nothing more than a white speck.

-R-

It had taken some effort for me to get the orcs to stop for feeding times. A young baby wasn't the most convenient of traveling companions. Even the stops we did make didn't satisfy his growing appetite. He was still hungry and cranky.

Zuz and Zar, I had come to find, were brothers. Zuz was the one with the feathered hair and Zar had a blind, milky white eye. They were both almost seven feet tall with brownish green skin. The orc brothers carried an astounding amount of weapons ranging from giant axes to small throwing knives. Azog had obviously sent his best.

My escorts rarely talked, they only listened and obeyed. I could tell they feared Azog's wrath if I wasn't satisfied. But that didn't mean they wanted to stop every three hours. We traveled far in one day, even the time I spent feeding and tending Evin were made up quickly by the wargs powerful legs.

I enjoyed being outside for the first time in over a year. It was early spring and the world was just beginning to awaken from winters slumber. As we had gotten further and further from Gundabad's shadow the world had gotten greener and more alive with life. The times when Evin was awake he was staring at the passing scenery. He had never left the mountain before then.

The night had come and the moon was glowing brightly through the pitch black trees. The night chill had settled in and the dew was a cold presence on my dress. The yellow glow of the fire was the only escape from the cold's biting teeth. I had Evin lying in its orange sphere of warmth. The sun had set early that evening. Zuz had gone hunting, well, at least that's what I speculated when he came back with a bloody deer.

The orcs gutted the unfortunate creature. They had separated the meat from the carcass then tossed the rest to the wargs. Of course the orcs ate the meat raw and bloody. They crudely stabbed a strip of the meat onto a branch and held it over the fire for a while. Then Zar handed it to me, his milky eye glinted in the fire as he scrutinized me. I took the meat and nodded in thanks. I ate it in silence. The two orcs had taken to sharpening their axes. By the time I was done Evin was fussing.

I had kept Evin hidden away all day; they hadn't seen him fully exposed. So when I unwrapped him in the flickering light of the fire his pale white skin they were in a bit of a shock. Apparently it hadn't registered in their dim orc minds that the child they had to slow down for was Azog's son.

**"His son," **Zar grunted. **"Azog's son…"**

**"Yes, this is his son." **I replied, changing the baby's wrappings. He stretched his little white legs out and sped out his toes.

**"You birth his son…" **Zuz grunted with what I could consider admiration.

**"You seem surprised?" **I said as I looked up to my escorts. They were both staring at me, their twisted faces carried emotions similar to amazement, surprise, and awe.

**"Azog son, Bolg, was killed at battle of dwarf mountain."** Zuzgrunted. He obviously wasn't the smartest orc around.

**"Well this isn't Bolg," **I snapped. **"This is a different son, Azog gave him the name Baalakdush." **

Their eyes widened, his name meant halfblooded sorcerer.

**"So you ****_are_**** a witch." **Zar muttered.

**"Yes, I am, and don't you forget it." **I finished wrapping the blanket around Evin.

The orc brothers were silent as they watched me. I could tell they were afraid.

Orcs don't like magic.

That thought reminded me that I still had a very powerful wizard after my son. After I felt the orcs eyes leave me I whispered a protective spell over me and my son. As long as he was under my spell he would be safe.

-R-

A week passed when I finally asked them where in the Vala's name we were going.

**"Away, Azog told us to go far away where wizard won't find you."** Zuz told me. He was the stupidest brother, he wasn't good at talking. – Although, he talked the most often.

**"So you have a destination?"**

**"No, no destnation." **He said, mispronouncing it.

_Fantastic. _

We had been heading west for some time now. The terrain was even more green and alive than before. Thoughts of freedom were beginning to tickle my mind more often now. The orc brothers had gotten calmer and more relaxed. Their guard was down. Now, the issue was actually escaping. I didn't want to kill the orcs who guarded me but I didn't want them to follow me. The wargs were another matter. They could sniff me out and find me faster than I could get away. This caused a very serious problem. The only solution I could think of was a river. I would have to wait till we came to a river. I knew I could use my magic to put the brutes in a deep sleep and then slip down the river. But I would just have to wait.

My time came sooner than I thought. It was a few days after I discovered we had no destination. And I didn't even need a river. We had been resting when an arrow sped from the trees and hit Zuz in the head, killing him. I pulled Evin close to my chest, cowering from the arrows. Zar had been up in a flash, his weapons drawn and ready for attack. An arrow in his chest had taken him to the ground. The wargs were taken out in similar fashions.

My eyes were wide as I looked out from under my messy hair. A man walked out of the bushes. He wore simple earthy tones under a brown cloak. He had a long bow drawn and an arrow set lightly on the string. As he came forward I got a better view of his face. He was in his late twenties early thirties, his skin was tan from being in the sun, he had a trimmed brown beard and warm brown eyes.

"Are you alright?"

Those three words were amazing to me. After hearing Black Speech for so long it sounded like music to my ears. It took me a moment remember common.

"I-I think so." I said. The words were so smooth on my tongue.

The man slung his bow over his shoulder and came towards me. He looked me up and down for wounds.

"What on earth were you doing with such creatures?" He asked.

I opened my mouth to reply when Evin let out a squawk of rage at being held so tightly. The man's eyes immediately flicked down to the baby in my arms.

"A baby?" He asked, his voice soft. "Where is your husband?"

"I have no husband." I looked the man straight in the eye. He looked to the orcs then looked to me. Realization dawning in his eyes.

"May I see him?"

I looked at him; I felt my magic flare up and could now see the very surface of his thoughts. This was an improvement; I normally had to be touching them. Everything I gained from his mind was truthful. He had a certain innocence about him that made me want to smile.

"Alright," I took Evin from my chest and pulled the blanket from his face.

The man did the last thing I expected him to do… he smiled at my son, a wide grin, not a smirk masking horror or one of guile intentions. The man was actually happy to see my little son.

"What is his name?"

"Evin," I said, watching his every move.

The man looked to me and gave a sincere but charming smile.

"I won't hurt him. I'm Vír, by the way, Vír Kinter." He held out his hand. I shifted Evin to my other arm and extended my own.

"I am Raenna." I said, at the contact of our hands I read his thoughts.

He felt pity on me, he knew my son was half orc and he wanted to help me. Then came the thought I knew would be there, he thought I was beautiful. Figures, most men though that about me. But it wasn't a lustful wanting to bed me sort. It was an almost naïve attraction. And I liked it. I liked this Vír Kinter. He was a good man.

"Well then, Lady Raenna, I suspect that you have nowhere to go now that these orcs are dead! I am traveling with a trading caravan currently and I think that the people there can help you out." He smiled.

"That would be wonderful, Vír." I smiled in return.

-R-

_A year and a half later…_

I sighed and looked up from my sewing at the sound of little feet thudding through the wagon I now called home. Vír had taken me fully under his roof. I could no longer deny that I was somewhat smitten with the kind hunter. I was mending some of the mini trousers Evin was now wearing. That child would run the life right out of a pair of pants! He was a very active toddler, his long legs made him fast. He wasn't afraid to tell you that either.

"Mamma, I super fast!" His little voice would often call to me.

I would just smile at him as he dashed away, his feet smacking the wooden floors. He had grown like a weed in the past year and a half. He now had all his teeth (Which praise the Valar weren't sharp fangs), his hair and he was talking in broken sentences. He had developed at an alarming rate. Of course, it could be me not wanting my baby boy grow up.

Of course, there was his appearance. His skin was leathery and the color of the moon, his hair was my silky jet black, his eyes were mine as well. He had some human features. But he still looked like Azog, especially when he was angry. I had managed to look passed it when he was baby, but now, there was no denying the resemblance.

I always kept him smudged up in dirt in public to somewhat deter the awkward questions. The small trading caravan we traveled with didn't care about his appearance. It was mostly half blind old people anyway. Evin was the only child in the caravan. I don't think he had ever met another child. Not until we met another caravan…

It was nearing the end of the summer and we happened to cross paths with a very large gypsy caravan. Evin's eye had lit up when he saw all the vibrant colored wagons and people. I was forced to take my son to see the pretty colors. I did the customary smudging of the dirt on his face, arms, and legs. He didn't seem thrilled about it. After his armor was applied, I picked him up with a groan and carried him out the door. He was very lanky, his cheeks were still holding onto to the baby chub, though.

I carried him into the mass of colored wagons. He was grinning ear to ear and pointing to the colors. I smiled, letting my eyes wander about the people weaving in and out from the caravans. But then I saw a flash of red hair, very perfectly styled red hair. I knew that hair. I narrowed my eyes and I saw her. She was carrying a baby girl. The little girl had wild black curls fluffing out around her back and wore a simply orange dress. Fern looked no different than when I had seen her last, besides the dark circles under her eyes.

Alarm bells were going off inside my head. This wasn't good. Mallus's own daughter was here… with her daughter. I was about to rush away when she caught my gaze. Her venom green eyes locked with mine. There was mirrored terror in their depths. I felt motherly protective instincts come over me. I couldn't let her hurt Evin by giving us away. I came towards her, she held her ground. I felt Evin bury has face in my neck. He was shy when it came to new people.

"Fern," I said.

"Rae, what are you doing here?" Her voice was ice.

"Hiding my son,"

I could see the relief wash over her eyes.

"You betrayed them too, didn't you?" She said.

"Yes," I was still unsure if she was telling the truth.

Then I looked at the little girl who was staring me down with ice blue eyes. She was adorable, she was small, her dwarvish blood shining through, she had a natural soft tan, big cheeks, and little rosy lips. She would have no trouble fitting into society. I could feel Fern's eyes on Evin.

"So you really did have a child with Azog. I am sorry, I saw him while with the dwarves. I see how you were upset to leave Angmar." Fern said. Her eyes were downcast. The tone of belittling I was used to her having was gone. Good thing to.

"It wasn't the most pleasant experience, but I did get my son out of it all." I said.

"He has your eyes," she smiled at my shy son.

"And Azog's skin," I grumbled.

"Thróra looks exactly like her father, well, I gave her the beauty." She smiled slyly.

"Mooommy," Thróra whined.

"Thróra, I told you not to whine!" Fern scolded.

Then I heard my son's soft voice.

"Mamma?" He seemed confused.

I smiled.

"It's alright, Evin, they're friends." I told him gently.

But then I realized the irony of the moment. Evin and Thróra were staring each other down. I met Fern's gaze, there was a small amount of mirth in their green depths. The children of Thorin Oakenshield and Azog the Defiler were meeting under completely oblivious and peaceful terms.

Thróra's eyes narrowed.

"Play?" She asked him.

His eyes narrowed at her.

"Yes," Then they both wiggled down from our arms and slide to the ground. We watched in amazement as our children went running through the grass, laughing and chasing each other. Evin was much faster than her though. Thróra tripped several times but she got up and continued running. Evin's words of "I super fast!" drifted over to my ears.

"Who would have thought…?" Fern's voice was soft.

"Oh, sweet irony." I smirked as Thróra tackled Evin.

"They would hate us for this," Fern grinned.

I snorted.

"Azog would kill me for this."

"Thorin wouldn't be pleased, either."

I felt Fern's eyes boring into me. Then her hand took mine, I looked down. I saw blue tendrils of energy magic going into my hand. I smirked, she was reading my thoughts. My own shadow magic swirled in return. Her thoughts were true. She held no intentions of betraying me or going back to Mallus. Then she let go, severing the connection.

"Would you like something to drink? The kids are playing wonderfully, I might add." She smiled.

"That would be lovely," I said in return, looking towards our children playing in the grass.

That afternoon went faster than I thought. Fern had changed for the better and discussing motherly things with her was quite enjoyable. I learned that Thróra was a difficult child, very wild and headstrong. My sweet Evin sounded wonderful to her. We laughed and talked, it was strange, it was like we were friends now. The day had grown late when Thróra and Evin had come stumbling back to us, filthy. They were smiling and shoving each other playfully. Fern and I shared mirthful smiles.

"Did you have fun, Thróra?" Fern asked.

"Yes, Evin super fast." She grinned, out of breath.

We laughed, we looked at our children, Evin's pale skin was smudged and dirty and Thróra was sweaty. They were so different.

_"Different as the sun and moon." _Fern quoted softly, those words were from the prophecy. I met the red head's gaze, a ghost of a smile on her face.

"What about you, Evin?" I asked my son.

"Fun, Phora fun." He smiled. He couldn't say her name.

"I think it's time to get a bath, missy." Fern reached for Thróra but the little girl hid behind Evin.

"No, Mommy, Evin!" She wrapped her arms around Evin's waist.

Our brows rose. This was unexpected.

"Same for you, mister." I picked Evin up, he wrapped his arms around my neck. Thróra's grasp was lost around his waist.

"I play!" Thróra threw herself down on the floor in a fit.

"You've played all day!" Fern picked up the flailing child. Fern looked to me, holding out her child so she wouldn't get kicked.

"Rae, I must say I had a wonderful afternoon with you," She said.

"Same for me," I smiled.

"Bye, Phora." Evin waved.

Thróra stopped screaming for a moment.

"Bye, Evin!" She said then returned to her tantrum.

A look passed between me and Fern. We knew we couldn't meet again. Having the children together was testing fate. They were the two halves that made up the prophecy, just as Mallus wanted. I knew it would be a long time before Evin saw his other half again.

* * *

**Phew, that was a toughy! I hope you enjoyed it! I know, I'm just teasing you guys now. The next chapter will be back with Thróra and the company. The chapters will go every other with Thróra and Evin. **

**I had wonderful feedback on the last chapter! :D It made me so happy to see people actually enjoying this crazy story! **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated! I want to hear your thoughts, questions and guesses! :D I will reply if you review. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Thróra**

**-Thróra's POV-**

* * *

Stupid wizard, stupid dwarves, stupid mother, stupid orcs! Why, why did this have to happen to me? Now I was stick in a very awkward situation. I sat on a wooden chair in one of the upstairs rooms of Bofur's home. There was a wall length mirror in front of me and a change of clothes on the vacant bed behind me. The day was fading away and the company would be here soon enough. The past few hours went by rather quickly. Bofur had insisted on me looking my best – apparently my current clothes weren't doing their job well enough. Of course, with the market of Dale just a few blocks away, clothes options were in abundance.

I had gotten over the earlier shocks of the day as time had worn on, but I then felt them creeping back up on me as the time drew closer. I was about to meet some of my father's most trusted companions! What would they think of me? Would they hate me? I knew my father was married and had a son… what if they tried to kill me? The sun was setting and casting its golden red light into my room. I turned my head and looked out the single window. The city of Dale lay bathed in dying golden sunlight, bells rang and people yelled and talked all throughout the city, but behind it lay the giant mountain, the sun's light cascading around its massive edges. There, within the mountain, was my father. The man I had always wished to meet.

I sighed and cast a glance at the new clothes I was supposed to wear. Bofur told me the only thing I was allowed to wear from my current clothes was my hat (he said that hats were 'an extension of one's personality' as he grinned and tugged on his own floppy hat). After a while I had gotten the new clothes on. Getting new clothes was always a real treat for me growing up, we never had much money. These were the nicest clothes I had ever worn.

New loose fitting trousers (Fine quality I must add), a gray tunic that reached to right about my knees, a dark blue vest with a diamond pattern which went to my waist, leather boots, a heavy black cloak, and a steel belt completed the new and improved outfit. I looked into the mirror that covered the wall. I looked at my appearance. I tried to recognize the person in front of me. Whoever it was wasn't me. I growled then grabbed my hat and slammed it onto my head. I stomped to the door and swung it open.

I was greeted with the sight of the gray wizard standing in the doorway. He blinked in surprise several times.

"Ah, there you are, Thróra, I wanted to speak with you before the guests arrived." Gandalf said.

"What is there to talk about? Besides not making a fool of myself and don't mess things up?" I grumbled, returning to my chair and sitting heavily on it.

"My dear girl, they won't reject you!" Gandalf stood over me.

"My father probably will," I muttered.

"Do not judge the outcome of a battle before it's fought, Thróra. Dwarves have a very strong sense of kinsmen loyalty. They would never abandon one of their own; it is against their nature, especially the child of their king!" Gandalf scolded.

"But I'm not one of them! My mother was a human, she isn't a dwarf! I am a mixed breed, a mutt, I won't be wanted!" I said in frustration.

"As I said before, do not judge your battles before they are fought." Gandalf laid a hand on my shoulder. "Now, the company will be here soon and I want you to remain up here until I call you down."

"Alright," I said meekly, trying to swallow the growing nausea. "Can you at least warn them before I walk into the room?" I asked.

"I will do my best." Gandalf smiled.

**-Gandalf's POV-**

My worry for Thróra was growing stronger by the moment. I could not guarantee her safety and security in the future. I had a small seed of doubt that the dwarves would reject her. All I could do was to wait for the storm to pass. I had no doubt in my mind that Thróra's appearance would cause quite the fiasco once the queen found out. I once again feared for Thorin Oakenshield's life. The wrath of a woman could be terrifying indeed.

It was at that time the first of the company had begun to arrive. Bombur had arrived a good while ago and was still blissfully unaware of the girl upstairs. The door opened and in came the sons of Fundin, Balin and Dwalin. Their clothing was finer since I had last seen them and their beards were a bit longer. They looked a tad bit suspicious at seeing me in their friend's home.

"Gandalf, fancy seeing you here, are you the reason for this 'secret meeting'?" Balin asked.

"Ah yes, I may have been the one who issued the invitation." I chuckled.

"What is it all about? And why weren't Fíli and Kíli invited?" Dwalin demanded.

"In good time, Master Dwarf." I said, lighting my pipe, the lovely smell of Old Toby tobacco filling the air.

Soon the other members of the company had come through the door and were laughing and greeting their fellow dwarrows. Bombur was working his magic in the kitchen by prepared a most exquisite smelling meal. I realized that Thróra would need to be fed. I stood quietly, trying not to bring much attention to myself. I walked to the kitchen and addressed Bombur.

"Ah, Bombur, my good fellow, do mind making a smaller dish? I have someone in need of supper right away." I asked.

The dwarf smiled and filled a bowl of soup and placed a fresh roll on top.

"Here you are, Gandalf. Might I ask why this friend isn't among us?" The large ginger dwarf asked.

"They will be soon enough." I answered. Taking the food into my hand and heading for the stairs.

At the third door on the right, I knocked on the wood with the end of my staff. I heard a shuffle and the door cracked open slightly. I could see one steely blue eye peering at me under thick lashes.

"Oh, Gandalf." Thróra opened the door more for me to come in.

"I figured you might be hungry." I told her.

She looked grateful.

"Thanks," She took the soup and started eating.

"Are they all here?" She asked after swallowing a bite.

"Yes, they aren't sure why they are here, but they have come none the less."

She looked a bit queasy for a moment.

"How long till show time?" She asked, her sarcasm made me smile.

"That depends on how long they eat, and I must say, dwarves had fierce appetites."

-G-

And eat they did. It took them almost two hours to finish their meal. The atmosphere was relaxed and content… until Balin spoke up.

"So, we have all been called here in secret, in secret from our king and his nephews. Tell us, Gandalf, why are we here?"

I cleared my throat, this was a tricky situation.

"Yes, I have called you all here to discuss something that will most likely change your king's life." I stood from my seat at the table.

Worried murmurs echoed from the table.

"Is his life in danger?" Gloin asked.

"No, nothing of that sort."

"Then what is it? What ails our king?" Gloin jumped from his chair.

"Nothing ails him, I assure you. It is a matter of events that happened before Erebor was reclaimed. You all knew Fern quite well?"

Growls of anger came from the dwarves. I hadn't liked Fern the moment we found her. Something wasn't right with the woman.

"Aye, the lass broke Thorin's heart in two, leaving him in ruins for years." Dwalin said, his arms crossed.

"Ah, yes, this has to do with the outcome of their relationship."

"We swore never to speak of her again!" Nori said.

"Well, I'm afraid you have to from now on." I said.

The dwarves were silent and watching me. Bifur and Bofur we not looking me in the eye, they were bracing themselves for their companions reactions.

"Where on earth did the she go, anyway?" Dori wondered aloud.

"She went back to the gypsy caravan where she was raised," I replied. "To raise her child in peace." I added. I immediately saw Balin's face go pale and his eyes close.

"She had a child?" Ori said, awe in his voice.

"Yes, and I can tell you she didn't have the child before she joined the quest."

At this point most of the dwarves were making the connections, but they couldn't believe it.

"No, no, no, that's not possible! Thorin would never –" Nori started.

"That's where you're wrong, Master Nori, he did. Thorin Oakenshield has a daughter."

"That woman! I knew she was no good!" Dwalin roared. "Seducing our king with her lips pursed! We never should have allowed her on the company!"

Most of the dwarves agreed with him and were beginning to simmer over.

"Where is she?" The timid voice of Ori said over the ruckus. The dwarves went silent.

I cleared my throat.

"She is here, in one of the upstairs bedrooms."

"Call her down!" Dwalin growled.

"I must ask you to be patient with her. She is quite afraid to meet you, even though she will deny it."

I heard the dwarves take calming breaths. I almost smirked. Even the illegitimate child of their king earned respect.

"Thróra, come down please." I yelled up to her.

The room was silent as they heard soft footsteps coming down the wooden stairs. Then Thróra stepped out, her curly hair stuffed under her top hat as always, but her swagger was replaced with an almost meek shyness.

**-Thróra's POV-**

Well, that was the most terrifying moment of my life. Eleven pairs of eyes were boring into my soul as I stepped out into the downstairs kitchen. The room was so silent a mouse couldn't have moved without being detected. They all stared at me for a moment. Bofur gave me a small smile.

"So it's true, you are his daughter." An old dwarf with a long white beard said.

I found that I couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say.

"Where is your conniving mother?" A tall dwarf with a bald head and imposing armor all but yelled at me.

"Dead," I manage to choke out.

There were murmurs around the room.

"What happened?" The same dwarf asked.

"Our caravan was attacked by orcs." I said.

Yells of outrage sounded from the dwarves.

"And not just any orcs, either." Gandalf said from his chair at the table.

They all looked to me, I swallowed.

"Azog, he attacked us." I said, my voice was so much weaker than I wanted it to be.

My eardrums almost busted from the yells of pure fury that came from those small, hairy men.

"Did he hurt you?" The tall dwarf looked hostile; I wondered why he even cared.

"No, I hurt myself, but he did recognize me." the face of the leering pale orc flashed through my mind. I tried not to shudder. I had done well hiding that horrible memory away.

"What do ye mean you hurt yourself?" A dwarf with a huge red beard asked.

I cleared my throat nervously.

"Well, I um, blew the caravan up in his face and burned my arms in the process." I lifted my arms up to show the rippled scars the covered my arms.

"You blew it up? Define that." The old white haired looked confused.

"We gypsies have something called spark dust. We use it for acts in our shows. Applied with fire it causes a deadly explosion. I blew up an entire cart of it in his face; it killed all of his orcs but didn't kill him." I looked to Gandalf, he nodded solemnly.

"This is grave news indeed," The dwarf stroked his white beard.

"We must tell Thorin immediately." The tattooed dwarf growled before turning to me. "You say the beast recognized you?"

"Yes, looked me in the eye then smiled, he also told me something in his language." I shuddered.

The dwarves looked stormy with anger.

"You need to tell Thorin exactly where it happen—"

"No! I can't, not when I am not wanted." I cut him off.

They all looked at me oddly.

"Who says you aren't welcome?" one asked.

I chuckled.

"Are you serious? I am a bastard! You wouldn't want me ruining anyone's reputation." I said spitefully.

"Lass –"

"Look, a lot has happened to me in the past month, I had no clue who my father was until a month ago, and let alone that I was a half dwarf till earlier today!" I felt my temper rising at no one in particular. "I know that he is married and has a child, he is also a king. I will mess everything up if I go to Erebor. If you want I can disappear and you will never see me again. He doesn't need to know I even exist." I said, a hint of desperation in my tone.

"Where would you go?" Bofur asked.

"Back to my caravan, or well, what's left of it. I can help them rebuild it, everything I know will go back to normal."

"No, we won't allow that," The tattooed dwarf said. "Not with Azog hunting you, we know from experience that he will stop at nothing to destroy the line of Durin. Bastard or not, you're still Thorin's daughter. You're one of us, we won't let harm come to you."

My jaw was slack. How on earth? They had barely met me and they were swearing to protect me.

"That is very kind of you, but I won't fit in. I was raised a gypsy, by frauds, prostitutes and sell swords." I gave a nervous laugh. "Going from fortuneteller's daughter to a dwarven court is a bit extreme."

"Nonsense!" The big red bearded dwarf shouted, a grin on his face. "You're born with Thorin's blood!"

I glared and for some unknown reason some of the dwarves laughed.

"What?" I snapped.

"Ye look just like him; ye even have the same glare!" He said. "I'm Gloin,"

"Nice to meet you…" I said, narrowing my eyes at the short man.

Then everybody started telling me their names. Valar, why did dwarves make their names rhyme?

"Dwalin, I'm yer father's bodyguard. I'm also captain of the royal guard." The tall, bald, tattooed dwarf introduced.

"I'm Thróra, Thróra Rivers." I said in return.

"I see your mother brushed up on Thorin's ancestors." Balin muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"Your grandfather's name was Thrór." He told me.

Oh, I see, name me after dwarven relatives.

"Is he still alive?" I asked.

The room darkened.

"No, he was beheaded by Azog."

I paled a bit.

"Is it his life goal to kill everyone in my family?" I asked.

"He swore to wipe out the line of Durin. In return, Thorin swore to wipe out his line as well. We know he had a son who was slain in battle. Of any other offspring we do not know." Balin explained.

"So if I ever meet a child of his I'll need to kill them on sight?" I asked, a smirk forming.

"Yes, as fast as you can, that filth has no place on this earth."

"Tomorrow, you're going to Erebor tomorrow to speak with him. We will inform him of your arrival." Dwalin announced.

"W-wha— no!" I yelped.

"You're the line of Durin, you will always be welcome in Erebor." Balin smiled.

But I saw the look in his eyes. He was afraid. And I knew it. All I wanted to do was vomit my guts out at that exact moment, but I didn't, thank the Vala.

"You will be escorted to Erebor tomorrow at noon." Dwalin said.

Well, it was decided. I was going to meet my father… and his wife.

* * *

**AN: Whooooa, look who updated two chapters in one week! :O I hope you liked the chapter!  
Thank you to: KneelingAngel and XxxBellaBellaxxX for reviewing! :) You guys are so kind!**

**Please review!**


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